Bella's Story
by EmmaHopeMaria
Summary: Bella's horrible story leads her to attempt suicide. When she doesn't succeed, she's forced to be helped by none other than her least favorite teacher: Snape. As it turns out, they begin to respect each other... maybe even like each other.
1. Chapter 1

_Author's note: Harry P doesn't belong to me or any of its characters. Only Bella! And she's fake anyway(: This whole thing's just for fun. Please please please R&R if you liked. I'd love to write more for you!_

**Chapter 1  
Misery**

Bella looked up from her books to see a group of unruly Slytherines heading her way. All four of them wore smirks that made her whole body tense from fear. They were up to something, and she was afraid of what that something would be.

"Hey Bellabutt," one of them jeered pathetically. "Wanna trade cards?"

When Bella was a first-year, she'd been obsessed with the Muggle-movies Star Wars. She'd been the worst kind of obsessed, too; she traded cards with characters on them and wore t-shirts under her robes and everything. The Slytherines, especially Blake, this group's "leader," never let her forget her past.

Behind Blake, another boy was murmuring a spell. Bella noticed only a little too late, and though she yelled, "Hey! Don't!" The spell was already beginning to do it's damage. One by one, the pages from her Transfiguration books were being ripped from their bindings. This book cost 11 galleons, and Bella was an orphan, left absolutely no wizarding money from her Muggle parents.

Another incantation resulted in her robes being ripped from her arms, torn into shreds, revealing her plain grey shirt and too-small ripped blue jeans. Bella gasped as her eyes watered, pulling out her own wand.

"Expeliarmus!" One of the boys yelled, and her wand was plucked from her hand.

"Stop it!" She shouted, wanting desperately to get the attention of anyone who would be willing to help her. But Bella knew she was virtually invisible, a blank spot in the castle to anyone who was friendly at all.

"Stopit, stopit," Blake jeered.

Bella yelled at them, but she knew it would do no good. They'd just been bored, probably picking on someone less entertaining, so they fell back on someone they knew they could always depend on for a good time: her. Now they'd traumatize her until someone rescued her, or they did something a little too bad and had to run away.

Gabe, another one of the boys, summoned up a swarm of mosquitoes to attack Bella while they shuffled through her bag, emptying her potions and stealing the money she'd been saving for something from the trolley on the way back to London.

"Get them away!" she howled in anger, wanting desperately to be able to defend herself.

She could barely hear through the cloud of mosquitoes around her as they dug through her bag, snickering at the pictures of her parents, tearing through notebooks and making assignments burst into flames.

Finally she dove for her wand, and caught it. But Gabe was faster: he murmured a curse under his breath, and then everything went black.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Miss Shanks! Miss Shanks, wake up." A soothing voice sounded in Bella's ears. She slowly came to consciousness and remembered exactly what had happened to her.

She blinked her eyes open and looked up at the starry sky. She'd been laying outside long enough for it to get dark?

She looked to the ground and saw a picture of her parents—her only picture—torn to pieces. It hadn't been a moving picture, like the ones the wizard's had, but it was the only picture that had been saved from the fire that killed them.

She scooped the pieces up in her hands and looked up at the person who'd awaken her. Dumbledore peered down at her, blinking calmly. "Are you alright?"

"I…" Bella looked down at the ruined picture in her hand, and looked around at the empty grass. Her books and bag were gone, except for the one book that had been totally destroyed.

Dumbledore offered her a hand, and she accepted it, blinking back tears. "My dear, don't worry about these things. I'll see to it that you receive new books by the morning, okay? A you'll be excused from all assignments you lost."

She nodded, wiping away a rogue tear that gotten past her eyelids. "Thanks, professor."

"Here," he whispered kindly, "Give me that."

She handed him a picture, and he waved his wand over it, probably putting a silent spell over her parents. In front of her eyes, the picture was mended. "Don't worry about these little things. Those boys will never have a life as complete as you will." He handed it back to her.

She nodded at him but didn't believe a word. "Thank you." She meant it this time. At least the picture had been repaired.

"Now please go to your common room, unless there's anything else I can do for you?" His kind eyes studied her, almost reading her mind, she was sure.

"No, sir."

"Then goodnight, Isabella."

"Goodnight."

Bella followed Dumbledore's instructions and went back to the Gryffindor tower. She climbed into bed, but she couldn't sleep. Images of her past had been chasing her lately, probably because of her first-hour class: Events in your life, and what they mean for you. It was a new class at Hogwarts, basically one that forced you to study your life and make the best out of it.

She was failing.

Bella was good at remembering everything in her life, but all she could find in the events was bitterness and pain. As she fell asleep, she dreamt about that fateful night when she was only eleven years old:

_"Bells, turn the stove off, will you?" Bella's dad sat on the couch in the living room, changing the channels as fast as he could. It was a lazy night, one of those nights when no one wanted to do anything._

_Without looking, Bella turned the knob on the gas-burning stove and returned to the living room to sit next to her father. Her brother, Jack, was sitting in the chair next to him, but he was so absorbed in the show that he didn't even notice her enter._

_"Bella, Bella. You excited for school to start?"_

_"Of course!"_

_"Even though you're going to that Special Ed school?" _

_"Dad," she purred. "It's not Special Ed. It's a school of witchcraft and wizardry. Duh." He wrapped an arm around her, smiling._

_"Oh yeah. How could I forget that? You've only been talking about it every day since you got the letter and the headmaster showed up."_

_She grinned at him. "Soon I'll be able to make you and mom do whatever I want you to do. Make me fabulous lunches, cater to my every need… all while I sit in bed and watch TV."_

_"Well, I don't know about that," he said, chuckling. "I'm sure if I wanted him to, I could tell Professor Dumbledore to teach me a few of his tricks." _

_"I'm going to be stronger than Dumbledore."_

_He father stroked her hair. "He seems pretty powerful to me. What makes you so sure?"_

_"I don't know. I can just tell I'm going to be good at this whole magic thing."_

_"I hope so. I hope you make lots of friends and learn a lot of cool stuff to impress me and mom with."_

_"I don't know. What if I don't have any friends?"_

_"Bells!" He got up from the couch and faced his daughter. "What happened to your confidence? You're Bella. Of course you'll have friends. I don't know anyone nicer, or more compassionate, or more understanding. Sweetie, you'll be fine."_

_"I hope so, Dad."_

_Suddenly her dad stiffened. "Do you smell that?"_

_His last word was drowned out by the sound of the smoke alarm and a loud blast. Suddenly the whole kitchen was engulfed in flames. With another puff of smoke, the living room was in flames. Both of them jumped from the couch. "Isabella, run outside right now and call the police! Jack, you too!" I'm going to get your mother and I'll be right behind you!"_

_Bella didn't even think to not follow instructions. She ran outside and called 9-1-1 on her cell. As she stood at the end of her driveway and looked back, talking to the dispatcher, she could see that he whole entire house was covered in hot flames. _

_"Help us! Help us!" She gave her address and watched in terror as her house was completely destroyed, and inside of it, the two people who loved her the most. Jack stood in wide-eyed terror, and neither of them could do anything._

Bella woke from her dreams, sweaty and crying. No one else in her dormitory had noticed her suddenly flying up from the horizontal position, breathing heavily with tears streaming down her cheeks. She wiped them away, embarrassed at her self. _That was six years ago, _she said to herself. _Time to get over it._

Three weeks after their parent's death, Jack had committed suicide. Jack and Mom were incredibly close, and he couldn't take it. Bella was left alone with her abusive foster parents, whose weird son was the only friend she had.

He'd been obsessed with Star Wars and a show called Pokemon. She couldn't help but like him, he was the only person who ever talked to her. Even after he knew she was a witch, he still played with her. He was her 8-year-old best friend.

Bella knew she wouldn't be able to sleep. She got up and went into the bathroom, flickering on the old light switch. She leaned over the sink and let her tears run into the porcelain basin. She looked at her reflection, disgusted with herself. He long, auburn hair was cascading down her face, messy and curly. Her emerald eyes were swimming with unwanted tears, her cheeks reddened with embarrassing tears. But worst of all was the long scar that ran through her right eye and down through her lips—the scar from when Jeff, her foster father, had taken a knife to her face, in one of his drunken rages. It was ugly and mysterious, and she hated it. But it would be there forever.

With a surge of revulsion, she punched the mirror with all her might. It shattered under the force, cutting up her hand. Ignoring the thumping pain, she returned to bed, not looking forward to the night of pain that was ahead of her.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Bella had fallen asleep in potions class—just about the biggest mistake in her life. She woke to a large bang, as Snape pointed his wand at her cauldron and burst it, causing her potion to run everywhere.

"Miss Shanks! I expect you to come to my class alert and ready to perform to your best abililty! _This, I hope, is nowhere near your best ability_!" He bent over her, sneering. "For your exhaustion, 50 points from Gryffindor. For your awful potion, another 50 points. And for your drooling, 10 points."

All of the Gryffindors groaned loudly at her. Although the Gryffindors had never been cruel to her, like the other houses, they certainly didn't consider her a friend.

"But Professor—!"

"Ah! Another ten points, Miss Shanks?"

Bella closed her mouth and said no more. Horribly humiliated, she looked at her broken cauldron, just another thing she couldn't afford. The last two weeks of her last year at Hogwarts were supposed to be good weeks. But everything seemed to be going horribly wrong.

Suddenly a spark ignited in Bella's chest. She looked at the board, examining the description of this horribly complicated potion. At the bottom of the board it said: _excessive use of this potion has been known to cause immediate death. _

Suddenly she found a way out. She looked at all the Gryffindors, as they glared, and all the Slytherines, and they jeered and mocked her, and finally she looked at Professor Snape. Even a teacher couldn't pretend to like her a little, his scowl was worst than everyone else's. The glimmer of contempt and amusement in his eyes for punishing her was enough to push her over the edge.

She took a vial out of her pocket, the largest she had, and collected the remainder of the potion in it. No one noticed. No one would have cared, anyway.

The bell rang, and Bella ran from the classroom. She found the nearest bathroom and stopped just inside. Panting heavily, she took the vial out.

Flashes of her life passed before her eyes:

_"You're a horrible person! Isabella, I don't know why we even bothered taking you in!" Jeff's horrible breath smothered her as she cowered against the wall. "You're a waste of space, a waste of air, a waste of food." _

_His hand smacked her face, and she gasped. "You're worthless." He punched her in the stomach. "You can't even defend yourself." He lifted her bowed head and slapped her again. "You're a damn witch, defend yourself!" But she wouldn't. Even as he slapped her with the back of his hand, and drew blood from his rings, she didn't fight back. She felt the hot, crimson blood on her face and shuddered, but she didn't fight back. _

_He shoved her against the wall and slammed her head into it until she passed out._

Yet another horrible memory:

_Bella walks into the bathroom, crying from Jeff again. He insulted his son until he started crying, and Bella couldn't help it. She felt bad for Brian. _

_She looked in the mirror at her pathetic face, and started crying more. It took her a few minutes, but then she looked over to her left._

_Jack was lying on the floor, a halo of blood that was his own surrounding his head. His eyes were glazed, his lips upturned in a horrible smirk. "Jack!" she shouted. "Jack, God, no!" She slumped over her brother's body and felt his neck. Crying out, she wrapped her arms around his lifeless body. "Jack! God, no! No, no, no!"_

_Jeff kicked open the door, yelling, "What the hell's going on?" And then: "Shit."_

Scene after scene of things that had gone wrong for her, her horrible life. She'd always had hope—always!—that things would get better. But they never did. They never had and they never will. She wasn't a self-pitying type of person… but life was just too hard. She didn't want to live it anymore.

Shivering, she slumped to the floor. She thought of Jack, and her loving parents, and of the life she'd had before. What was wrong with her? Why had she survived? What had she done to deserve all this misery?

With one last breath, she downed every drop of the potion. With a horrible scream, the pain overtook her body, and the last thing she saw before consciousness was stolen from her was Severus Snape, running to the rescue.

______________________  
So dyou think I should continue this? Please R&R!


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two  
Recovery?**

_Author's Note: to those of you who reviewed chapter 1, thank you sooo much. I lovee to get reviews! I hope you like chapter 2. It will probably take me a while to get up chapters 3 and 4 cause I'm going away for work for about 2 weeks. (I'm not sure how many chapter total will be in this story… but hey if you want me to keep writing, by all means, I will!) But I'll get them up, ASAP! Thanks and please stick with Bella as she recovers!  
___________________________________

Bella slowly regains consciousness again. At first she doesn't think much, she just sits there. As she comes out of her foggy, dreamlike state, she questions her surroundings.

She's on a very comfortable bed, blanketed with huge knitted quilts that look like the work of Dumbledore. There's a pot of bubbling, pig-pink liquid next to her on the end table. Her hair is greasy and unwashed, her nails are long and untrimmed—how long has she been here, and why is she here?

The most disturbing thing about her appearance: her legs are nearly as thin as her arms once were, and her arms are mere branches sticking awkwardly out from her body. _What in the world has happened to me_? Bella can't fathom what she could have gone through to get into this room.

The door opens and a man enters. He's wearing a tight-knit grey sweatshirt and loose black jeans. His hair is about ear-length and it's sticking up all over the place, as if a potion might've just gone wrong for him.

With a twist of repulsion, Bella realizes this person is Severus Snape. Never before had she seen the horrible professor in anything but his school robes, whooshing around the classroom like a bat. Much to her horror, he didn't look completely awful in this sort of apparel—but that didn't weaken the contempt in her voice as she snarled, "What are you doing here?"

Snape turned sharply to glare at her. "Ah, you're awake."

Bella sat up abruptly, and colors rushed to her eyes, temporarily blinding her. She swayed a little, almost falling off the bed, but two firm hands pushed her back down to her pillow. "Don't get up so fast," Snape ordered curtly.

"Why are you here?" She muttered. "Why am I here?"

Bella runs a hand along her body. He hands are sticky and clammy. She can feel her ribs protruding angrily from her body. Her pelvis juts out of each side of her hips. "What happened?"

Snape doesn't answer any of these questions, just sits down in a chair next to Bella's bed. For the first time, Bella notices the walls: they are cedar, grey blocks: like a dungeon.

Even more angrily, Bella repeats her first question: "Why are you here?"

"I," he snarls, "have been forced to look over one of Albus' precious favorite students while she heals."

The bitterness in his voice was obvious towards the headmaster whom Bella loved so much. Although she is flattered to be called one of Dumbledore's favorites, she is careful not to let it show. "As I heal?"

"Idiot child," Snape hisses. "Do you remember nothing?"

She's suddenly humbled by Snape calling her an idiot. The shock of waking up here is wearing off a tiny bit, so Bella can only squeak, "No."

"You downed a whole vial of slimming potion," he explains unsympathetically. "One drop could aid a severely obese witch to lose 20 or 30 pounds, but a whole vial to someone of your size…" he trailed off, imaging how bad it could have been. "I raced to get the antidote, and by the time I got back, I could see the outline of the bones in your arms, I could see every tendon in your neck and legs, I could fit my hands around your waist, I'm sure."

With this explanation, everything came rushing back. Bella remembered slyly stealing the remainder of her potion, rushing to the girls' bathroom after class, drinking the whole thing… the horrible scream that came from her own mouth… the sensation that she was being sucked inside of herself, and the look of disgust on Snape's face when he discovered her before everything went black.

"Why isn't Madame Pomfrey taking care of me?" Bella asks weakly.

"One," he says, stirring the potion beside Bella, "Madame Pomfrey hasn't been trained for this sort of thing. Two, she's left the castle to go home. It's summertime. And three," he hesitates, and his eyes narrow as Bella looks at him curiously. "our beloved headmaster seems to think that looking after you will 'do me some good.'"

Bella snorts. "How does he figure that?"

"I have no idea. But you can thank me anytime now."

"I won't thank you," Bella murmurs.

"I saved your life, Miss Shanks."

"I didn't want to be saved, if you didn't notice!" She cries angrily. "And I most certainly do not want to be here with _you_. Dyou think this was what I was aiming for, drinking that potion?"

"And why, Miss Shanks, dyou feel that you had to end your life?" His blazing grey eyes pierced through her emerald ones, as if studying her very thoughts.

Intimidated, Bella looks away. "I'm not going to tell you that, Professor." The last word comes out prickly and full of contempt. She can't stand that he has to be here with her, in her time of vulnerability and need.

He doesn't say anything, just pours a cup of potion for her and hands it over. "Drink all of this as fast as you can. You have to drink it three times a day for a few weeks."

_A few weeks? _She thinks desperately, taking the glass from him. The potion is a lava-red color, bubbling and even slightly chunky. Snape leaves the room, and she wonders, _should I trust him_?

Worst case scenario: It kills her. Bella lets out a crude chuckle at the irony of that conclusion. She lifts the glass and chugs it.

Choking about halfway through, she feels as if her throat is on fire. Her esophagus feels charred and burnt, but she doesn't stop drinking. She feels she deserves this sort of pain. Tears gather in her eyes and threaten to spill over. She's glad that Snape decided to leave.

She finishes it, and then her mind is lulled into a peaceful sleep.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Snape wakes Bella after what seems like a short amount of time. "You have to take it again," he says quietly. Bella has a small suspicion that he's speaking low as to not startle her from her sleep. However, she doesn't know why he would be so considerate.

Bella sits up. She watches her professor as he brews the next potion for her. He works carefully, reading the directions with his steely eyes, never messing anything up. The way he turns the pages of the book is like a caress, like he cares greatly for the book that's in his hands. He moves around the cabinet next to him with experience. He takes what he does seriously.

She watches, and she considers. She notices that he's not exactly an unattractive man… quite the contrary, actually. So why is he alone? Why does he not look forward to going home every summer as the rest of the teachers so obviously do? Although she hates how he acts, she wonders—is there a reason he acts the way he does? Could he have a past every bit as horrible as hers?

She looks at his hands, scarred and slightly shaky. She looks at his eyes, full of experience way beyond his age. She looks at his stiff shoulders, tense, as if he's ready to fight if there's any sudden reason to. Could this man be suffering as much as she?

Bella feels something in her chest. Something she'd never felt before—especially not for someone like Severus Snape. It was an orb of pity, of sympathy, of curiousness. Suddenly she could see Snape almost clearly, in a sense. She could see that he wasn't the way he was just because he wanted to be. He'd been through something… just like her.

Although the possibility of them someday getting along because of their similarities in this region seemed laughable at most, Bella decided to have a little bit better attitude about staying in the castle with her professor. She didn't like him. She didn't think he was a good person. In fact, she _loathed _the man. But she was curious.

"Snape—I mean, Professor—dyou have any children?"

His eyes flash as if he's about to say something crude or come back with a retort, but he only says: "No, I don't."

"Why not?"

"Because, Miss Shanks, I do not have a wife."

"Well why don't you have a wife?"

His hand twitches in mid-stir. "I've only once been in love, and—well, she died." He decided this was better than saying, "I loved someone once, but she left me for someone better, smarter, more handsome… and then they ended up getting killed protecting their stupid son who I can already tell, at 2 years old, is going to be a moron."

"I'm sorry, sir."

"Bella, why are you asking these questions? We aren't friends. Why do you care?" His sharp eyes meet hers, reading her.

Although Bella would admit that this is more than true, she's stung by his bluntness. "I'm just trying to figure you out."

"Figure me out?" his eyes narrow.

"I'm stuck with you here for a while, aren't I? I don't have anything else to do. I want to know why you are… the way that you are."

"There is no reason," he snarls coldly.

"I don't believe you." Her voice comes out in a mere whisper, though she'd been wanting to sound strong.

"Just because you don't believe me," he reasons, "doesn't mean it's not the truth."

"Do you have any friends?"

Sighing angrily, he answers, "Yes, of course I have friends."

"Really. What do you do together?"

He stops stirring and is quieted. Bella realizes victory and smiles a little bit. He doesn't have friends. He can't even come up with a hobby he could share with someone else.

"Miss Shanks, what do you do with _your _friends? Since _you _are so popular." He throws arrows with those silvery eyes, sneering angrily at her.

Bella can also realize defeat. With a sinking feeling, she realizes he is also right; she doesn't have any friends, so she wouldn't know, either. He returns to his potion, and she looks at her brittle fingers. Both loners are completely quiet.

In a little over five minutes, the potion is ready. He hands her the glass once more and exits the room. It's the same lava-red potion from before, and Bella knows what to expect. She drink it all, enjoying being able to torture her stupid, worthless self before she drifts off to sleep again.

_Bella is eleven. She's watching TV for her fifth consecutive hour, sitting next to Jack. They are quiet. Neither has spoken to the other since the fire. There's hideous laughing and clanging of beer bottles coming from the kitchen. The TV is on mute. _

_Both are fine with just staring at the flickering screen, thinking about nothing. Neither of them want to think about how horrible their lives became as of a week ago._

_"It's your fault." Jack's voice is hoarse and scratchy, like that of a much older man. Bella jumps at the sound of his voice; it's the first time she's heard it since that fateful day._

_"What?" she asks, her own voice hoarse._

_"It's your fault they died. If you had just turned off the fucking burner right. You left the propane running. There was a little spark, and it blew up. You stupid eleven year old, it was all your fault that they died."_

_"W-what are you talking about?" Bella squeaked. "I turned it all the way off!"_

_"No you didn't. I could hear the propane hissing in the kitchen. You're a moron and you killed our parents. Now we have to live in this hellhole for the rest of our lives."_

_"Jack, I didn't—!"_

_"Don't be stupid, Bella. I hate you. And I hate this place. Life isn't worth living anymore." On that note, he stormed upstairs. Bella could hear him stomping through the hallways, bumping into walls, and slamming his door._

_"YE IDIOT DON'T BE SO DAMN LOUD!" Came Jeff's yell from the kitchen._

_Bella barely heard him. There was ringing in her ears as she replayed the whole scenario in the kitchen. She didn't even look to see if she'd turned the burner off correctly; could Jack be right? She wasn't listening for any weird sounds, so she didn't hear the propane. With a horrible feeling in her stomach, she realized the awful truth: Jack _was _right. It was all her fault. _

_A tear slid down Bella's cheek as Jeff and Dana entered the living room. Jeff sat next to Bella, and his wife sat in the arm chair. Bella's mind was spinning with anger and revulsion at herself. She wiped all of her tears away before Jeff could see. He loved her tears. _

_If it wasn't for me, they'd be alive, she thought. If it wasn't for me, Jack would be happy, she thought. If it wasn't for me, we wouldn't be _here_._

_Bella wanted nothing more than to go jump off the nearest cliff. She didn't deserve to be a witch, didn't deserve to be a muggle, didn't deserve to be alive at all. It was all her fault that Jack wouldn't get to have his first drink with his dad. It was all her fault that she wouldn't ever been given away by her father at her wedding. It was her fault that Jack and Mom would never laugh while making smoothies. It was her fault that her and Mom would never sneak out to McDonalds for a late-night snack._

_Jeff cackled at the TV and lit a cigarette. He was drunk. Bella could smell the seventeen can of beer that he'd inhaled in seconds. But she didn't care. She knew she'd probably be hurt tonight—maybe worse—but she deserved it. She deserved to be dead, to go to hell. _

_Jeff looked at her, heartbroken and tormented, and he laughed. "Wuzzup wichoo?" he asked, putting an arm around her. Bella shuddered unknowingly in his grasp, closing her eyes. He sprung back, offended. "Bitch, I give you a house, and food, and clothing, and this is how you treat me?"_

_He took his cigarette and pressed it into Bella's arm. Bella gasped, not expecting the sharp pain all of the sudden. He'd never done that before. Although her eyes watered, she didn't cry, only resigned._

_"No tears yet," he snickered, pressing it into another part of her arm. She didn't flinch this time. He lit another one, deciding that this particular cigarette wasn't doing the trick. And he pressed it into her arm. Lit another. Pressed it into her arm. Lit another. Over and over again, until Bella had a large cluster of burns on her arm, and finally, a single tear dropped from her face._

_A tear of, _I'm a failure. _A tear that said, _I don't deserve to be here. _A tear that cried not only for pain, but for defeat. Jeff let out a huge, bellowing laugh, and removed the cigarettes one by one, wiping the ashes on her jeans._

_Dana watched TV while all of this happened. Either she truly was oblivious, or she just didn't care. Bella didn't care, either. Jack was upstairs, suffering, because of her. And Mom and Dad were dead._

_Jeff reached into his pocket to find other devices of torture. Bella squirmed a little, from anxiety and sadness. He growled and shoved her into his shoulder, between his right arm and his shoulder. She relaxed, knowing it was better not to fight him. _

_He pulled out a paperclip. What Bella had once known as a useful office tool, she now only saw as another way for Jeff to torture her. He stretched it out and took one of the ends in his fingers. Casually gripping Bella's thin, immature wrist, he inserted a tip into her. At first he didn't go far, but then he'd slowly sink it in lower and lower, until the blood was practically spurting out. Bella began to cry, and her breathing became shallow. She didn't want to watch, but she had to. There was a slap-happy expression on Jeff's face as he again took the small tool out, and pushed it in somewhere else._

_Bella's small sobs only pleased him. She couldn't understand how he could take so much pleasure in torturing her, in gaining a few sobs from causing her pain. But it never failed. Each time, he would find immense joy in seeing her squirm and sob._

_Jack came back downstairs and passed them. His eyes ran over Bella, leaned into the monster of a man, her arm bleeding and swollen, but he didn't even stop or offer a glimpse of sympathy. He kept walking. Bella sobbed and thought to herself, _that's right. You deserve it.

_Jack began to stick her with the paper clips and slowly turn the paperclips in circles. With a quick intake of breath, Bella was able to endure these, too. Pretty soon after starting this, Jeff got bored and put the paperclip away. He examined his handiwork, nodding at himself, as if saying, Good job. You've done well. Then he forced Bella's head into his lap and stroked the side of her face and neck, like some sort of pet. They would sit like this sometimes for mere minutes, and sometimes for hours. Bella never knew what was in store for her._

Bella wakes with tears streaming down her face. Her eyes are still closed, and she can feel that someone is sitting next to her, shaking her from her dream. Completely delirious, she wraps her arms around this person and leans into them. Her whole body shakes with sobs of shame and horror.

The person on her bed reluctantly puts an arm around her, and is awkwardly stiff, but they don't move away, or flinch away, like so many people often did to her.

As Bella slowly realizes where she is again and that she's not anywhere near her foster parents, she also goes rigid, realizing whose body this probably is. Finally, she peels open her crusty, tear-filled eyes, and looks up at Snape.

She pulls away, muttering, "Damn. I'm sorry."

"You were crying out in your sleep," he explains. "You looked… terrified."

Wiping her eyes, Bella says, "I was dreaming. I'm fine."

"Just a dream?" She looks into Snape's eyes, which are usually cold, but she sees sincere curiosity and maybe even a little bit of concern staring back at her. "Or something that has to do with why we both ended up here? A memory, perhaps?"

She nods reluctantly. "Yes. A memory."

He studies her. Although at first this was completely uncomfortable to Bella, she is slowly learning to love it. No one ever studied her. Studied her assignment, sure. But not her. Snape's curiosity is flattering as well as unexpected. Somewhere deep inside of her, she wants someone to learn about her past, to _understand_. But does she want that person to be Professor Snape?

"You were yelling 'It's not my fault.'"

She nods.

"Why?" he wonders.

"Don't I need to be taking another potion?" Bella asks, trying to steer the conversation away from her. Her gut tells her not to trust Snape, but the rest of her is yearning to let someone—anyone—in on her life and her suffering.

"No," he says curtly. "I just woke you because you didn't seem to be sleeping very peacefully. I figured you'd rather be awake an bored than sleeping and tortured."

Snape's consideration was touching as well as unanticipated. Again Bella wondered about the man behind the mask… the possibility that Snape was more complex and similar to her than what he would let on.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3  
A Rocky Road**

"That was nice," Bella says stiffly.

He shrugs and gets up. "Sure."

"You know, it's a good thing to be nice," I reason, not knowing why he wants to brush off the compliment.

"I know that!" he snaps.

"Well you just can't take a compliment, can you?" the aggressiveness was re-surfacing. Too much being nice was getting to both of them.

"Shut up!" He yells in a very juvenile way. "Just forget it."

Bella scowls at him. "Maybe I would've rather been having that dream. Instead of arguing with you over stupid things like a freaking compliment. You need to loosen up."

"Well you need to get a grip!" He snarls, leaning over her. "You think you're so special. You're life is so hard, so you attempt suicide. And now I have to wait on you, like you're sick or something. But you're just stupid. Stupid and weak and completely worthless. Don't think I'm going to treat you like some kind of royalty, because to me you're just a stupid child."

Bella shrank under his stare. _Worthless _rang in her ears. "Why are you even here? Just because Dumbledore's 'making you?' What are you, his slave?"

"I don't know why I'm still here. Maybe I shouldn't be. Maybe I shouldn't waste my time. That's what you are. A _waste_."

With those two words, he stood up and stalked from the room.

Bella sat, frozen. How had things turned bad so quickly? Although she hated to admit it, the conversation at first with Snape had been… alright. Good, even. But then they switched back, like clockwork, to their old selves.

And he called her a waste. Worthless. Stupid. All the things she'd always thought she was, confirmed. Again she felt that sensation of the walls collapsing around her. She felt that a lot lately. Like there was no way out. Suddenly the door was miles and miles away, and she felt nauseous.

What would happen to her, after she left this place?

She'd go back to her foster home until she became of age. Since she'd skipped 4th year, she was the youngest of her class. Could she face going back to Jeff and Dona? She doubted it. Then she'd have to get a job. But what could she do where people wouldn't hate her? Would she ever get married?

_No_. Who would want to get married to someone like you, idiot? Even an abusive, horrid man like Jeff had managed to get married. But who would want Bella? She wasn't overly attractive. She was a bookworm. And she was _worthless_. _Stupid_.

Bella looked at her body, observed how ugly and thin and frail she was. Would she ever have a normal life again? Would anyone ever love her? Would she ever have a single friend?

It's call karma, she told herself. You kill your parents, the world hates you. Easy as that.

_Finish the job_, the voice said in her head. _What are you waiting for? You're a waste of air. Just finish what you started!_

Bella was swimming in despair all over again, no way out. What was her reason to live?

She couldn't find any. Although she didn't search hard… she knew there was nothing. No reason for her to live to tomorrow. She had no future, no present, and her past… It was nothing to be proud of, that was for sure.

A tear escaped Bella's eye. When would the sorrow end?

_Now. End it now._

Bella was delirious with pain and desperation. She couldn't think. All she could feel was the pain around her, that twisted her head and deadened her insides. She could only think of one thing to do, since she had no wand and no means of magic locked up in this little cell.

So she strangled herself.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Snape found Bella curled into the fetal position. She wasn't breathing. He had no idea what kind of means she'd used this time to kill herself, but somewhere inside he felt a pang of regret because of what he'd said to her.

With a quick revival spell, she shuddered back to earth. He guessed she'd only been lying there for a few moments, and her heart had still been beating. He didn't revive her totally. He let her rest.

He sat down in the chair next to her and he watched her. He set his chin in one of his hands and slowly rubbed a thumb over his growing stubble. Slowly, he was beginning to become curious. Bella wasn't doing this to get attention, that much was clear now. He didn't know why she truly believed that she'd be better off dead. Something truly horrible must have happened to her—but what?

As she lay there, twitching and muttering, she looked… good. Pretty, even. As this thought passed through his head, he looked away. He didn't want to get involved in this girl who might be as troubled as he is.

But as he looked at her, he couldn't help but feel a little bit of affection towards the girl. She would probably understand him like no one had ever understood him before.

But that thought scared him. It scared him a lot. Getting close to anyone scared him, because of Lily. He was never good enough for anyone. At first, he was appealing because he was mysterious and gorgeous—but the whole package wasn't as great as it looked. Snape knew he was often unstable or angry or sad, and no one could be with him through all of that.

No one.

Snape reached up subconsciously and ran a finger along Bella's scar. He caught himself and drew back instantly. Why had he done that?

He was curious. What was the scar from?

She moaned and he thought he could hear her say, "Severus…" He sat up in his seat, an unusual thrill going through his body. _Don't be insane, man._ He caught himself. Don't get involved.

He got up abruptly. Shook his head. Went back to his classroom.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Bella woke again, delirious like the first time. However, she remembered what had happened much faster than she did last time. She tried to strangle herself. Snape hated her. She was stupid. Worthless.

She sat up slowly and looked around. Snape was asleep in the chair next to her. Slowly, she realized something. She was wrong. _Very _wrong. Snape didn't hate her. Could she go as far as to think he maybe even liked her?

She watched him. Examined his hair, messy and raven-black. Examined his face, which was the most peaceful she'd ever seen it. She watched as he shifted slightly, as his chest went up and down in his sleep.

The potion next to her let out an angry hiss and Snape jolted awake. Their eyes met, and suddenly a weird feeling washed over her: understanding. She understood him, and he understood her. Respect was born. It was understood that he wouldn't jeer her anymore, and she would extend the same to him.

"Welcome back," he said.

"Thanks," she squeaked, a little scared of what was going to happen now. There was an awkward silence and she murmured, "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"Being a failure. I can't even succeed in the weakest possible act." She chuckled at the irony of the whole thing.

He moved onto her bed, looking into her eyes. "Bella," he said strongly, and she noticed the first use of her first name. _"I'm glad that you didn't succeed._" It looked like that took effort, but she appreciated that. "And I'm sorry I said those things. It was out of line."

Shocked, all that Bella could think to say was, "No. You were right."

"No Bella, I wasn't!" He was so insistent that Bella almost believed him. He put a hand on her shoulder. "I'm going to have to spend a lot of time in here, aren't I?" His voice quieted. "I'm pretty sure that Dumbledore wouldn't be happy if he came down here and you were dead. And, for the record, I wouldn't be too happy about that either."

Bella looked him in the eyes and gave him the first genuine smile that she'd put on her face in perhaps years. "Thank you."

Bella thought that she maybe saw the flicker of a smile on Snape's face as well, but it was gone too fast for her to be sure.

"Bella," Snape said suddenly, not looking at her. "I want to tell you something about myself." He paused, preparing himself. "When I was fifteen, my father killed my mother and my two sisters. They were both younger than me. It was Voldemort's doing, really; my mother was trying to convince my father to give it up… you know, the whole death eater thing. Of course that didn't go over so well with Voldemort. Anyway, after taking care of them… he came after me. And I," he choked a little on his words, and finally looked at me, those gray eyes full of pain and mourning. "I killed him." He looked away again. "I was fifteen. They put me in Azkaban until I came of age. Since my dad was a suspected death eater… I got off easy. I shouldn't have. I deserved to be…" his body shook a little bit as he shook his head. "I deserved to be locked up for life."

Bella couldn't believe that Snape had shared all of that with her. He must've felt worse than she thought for insulting her. He looked back into her eyes and she saw the same kind of sadness in his eyes that she saw in hers when she looked in the mirror.

"Thank you for telling me all of that," Bella whispers.

He looked back at her, and she knew what he wanted to say: Your turn.

So Bella took a deep breath, and let out her story as fast as she could: "My parents died when I was eleven. My brother committed suicide the same year. My foster parents make their lives more interesting by… burning with cigarettes, setting searing hot pans on me while I sleep, and using me as a human punching bag… all for their own enjoyment."

Snape's eyes didn't leave hers the whole time she told her story. After a few quiet moment he said, "So what is this from?" Slowly, he reached up and stroked her scar for the second time in a few days.

Bella looked down. "Jeff cut me with a knife. Said I was too pretty. I didn't deserve to be pretty."

"Why did he hate you?"

She shook her head. "I don't know."

"And what…" he stops, perhaps wondering how far was too far. "What is all your fault? What were you murmuring about in your dream that night? Do you blame yourself for something?"

Bella smiles weakly. "You don't miss a thing, do you?"

He only looks at her, waiting.

Again Bella's stomach twists. Her whole body is holding back, like normal. She's been so far away from people for six years that she doesn't know how to let them in anymore. But she opens her mouth anyway, stumbling over her words, but saying them all the same: "My parents. It was… it was my fault. I didn't even realize, but Jack… my brother… he knew. He told me that he could hear the… well anyway, it doesn't matter. It was my fault. I…" Bella's voice broke, as she said aloud for the first time what she'd only admitted to herself: "I killed my parents."

Suddenly her body shook with a huge sob. She felt like an idiot, sitting in front of this man, whom she once would've said was her greatest enemy, crying. Not just a few tears: a stream. Her whole face was wet with her crying.

Snape took one look at her, vulnerable and completely consumed with her sadness, and he did the only thing he thought of: he hugged her. Not the awkward hug that they'd first experienced together, but a real hug. They were both vulnerable, and they were both scared. But for some reason, it brought them together in a weird way.

Snape's arms were surprisingly warm. He wrapped himself all around Bella as she cried uncontrollably into his shoulder. They sat like this for who knows how long, maybe minutes or maybe hours. Snape rocked Bella back and forth, until she fell asleep in his arms.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Bella woke and she could sense that it was still nighttime. Snape was still holding her. How long had they been like this?

"Professor?"

"Yes, Bella?"

"You stayed here. Even though I fell asleep. You stayed."

"Of course."

One drop fell from Bella's swollen eyes. "Thank you," she murmured, hugging him tighter.

"Isabella," he whispered. "It wasn't your fault."

She shifted on his shoulder, burying her head into him. "Yes it was."

"No. You were _eleven_, Bella. You were just a child! It was an accident. You can't have possibly known what you were doing. It was no one's fault, just a horrible, horrible accident." They were both quiet for both several long minutes and then he said, "You have to stop hating yourself."

"Why? What's the point? Everyone else does. I'm stupid. I'm ugly. I'm not going anywhere in life."

"Where you go in life is up to you. You're smart. You have the world ahead of you." He pulled away from her and looked her in the eye. "And Bella, I don't know where you got the idea that you're ugly." His eyes shifted a bit and he said, "Because you are an incredibly beautiful woman."

Bella's mouth dropped, just a little bit. And a spark of something grew in her chest… at first, she couldn't identify it. But then she realized… it was happiness. Joy. She felt _good_.

"Thank you."

A force between them was pulling Bella towards Snape. She didn't know if they should kiss, didn't know if they should take this further. She didn't want to ruin what they'd created in such a short amount of time. Didn't want to ruin the only true friendship she'd ever had.

Abruptly, Snape stood up. "It's time for you to take your potion again."

In just a few seconds, the passion was gone. But the comfort and the other feelings remained. Bella looked away from Snape, her eyes watering. But they weren't tears of sadness. For once in her life, she was crying out of joy. Pure joy.


End file.
